


Arcadia Ego

by notkal



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Internal Conflict, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, au where george wasnt asleep, i just think the dsmp storyline is neat, no beta we die like l'manburg, this is very lore-centric w a dnf focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:26:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28729614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notkal/pseuds/notkal
Summary: Maybe Dream had a sliver of mercy in his heart so as not to sink the nation to bedrock. Maybe this could all be rebuilt. Maybe there was still a shot at peaceful independence.There was just one small problem. One tiny issue made manifest among the sea of death broadcasts that filled everyone’s peripheral chat:GeorgeNotFound was slain by TommyInnit-Alternatively: George gets kidnapped during the Doomsday War.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 153





	Arcadia Ego

**“Our god's name is Abraxas and he is God and Satan and he contains both the luminous and the dark world.”  
― Hermann Hesse, Demian: Die Geschichte von Emil Sinclairs Jugend**

  


-

  


The way the war starts surprises absolutely no one:

“I’ve got a few withers Dream.” 

The people of L’Manburg, the people who couldn’t care less about the nation that continuously fails to become independent, and the people who would much like to see it destroyed stand around what’s left of the exploded community house. 

It was the very first house built in these lands; the beginning of so many ends that never saw an end for itself until now. All things considered; it was really only a matter of time.

The suspected perpetrator of its demise stands in the middle of the current mess, looking like he’s about to cry, scream, or both. 

The thing is, Tommy just wants to live in peace with his friends (and his discs, but don’t tell his friends that because they get pretty weird about it) and, frankly, he doesn’t know why he keeps ending up in these situations. He quite liked it here when betrayal and bloodshed weren’t the normal occurrence that people expected biweekly and blamed him for.

“We could work something out—if we can get out of here alive,” Technoblade chuckles at the exasperated looks on everyone’s faces.

Dream nods and Tommy hates him so much. Techno is the one threatening to spawn withers, but he knows Dream is smirking under that goddamn mask. The way he manipulates everyone into getting what he wants with ease and the casual way he says “Alright listen. L’Manburg is being destroyed, okay? Tomorrow, at 3 pm” makes Tommy’s blood absolutely boil. 

At least Techno hates governing bodies—Dream is just a psychopath, Tommy thinks.

“You have one night,” Dream looks directly at the young boy, who clenches his fists in pure loathing and hopes that his narrowed eyes, somehow, telekinetically drops the guy dead.

Much to Tommy’s disappointment, Dream remains upright and resolute on the death certificate he’s assigning not only the country, but also the people fighting for it. Tommy curses the skies for not giving him superpowers as Dream tosses an ender pearl.

“Say your goodbyes forever.”

  


-

  


To be quite honest, they’re not ready.

However, that’s not the way everyone’s acting. Their faces are filled with determination and a certain eagerness to finally take Dream down—it’s hesitant but it’s still there; Tommy sees it in their alert expressions and in their hurried gestures and orders. And sure, it comforts him to know that all hope isn’t lost, but he knows they’re not ready. 

And he knows why they haven’t given up and why they’re listening to his commands despite the fact that he literally just showed up and unexiled himself. 

Surely the kid who starts most of these wars has a plan. Even if no one actually knows who blew up the community house, it doesn’t really matter because surely Tommy—the one who’s been bred and developed by battle and revolution instead of the nurtured affection most sixteen-year-olds are brought up with— _surely_ , he’ll know what to do.

Nonetheless, Tommy is laying on his back in the fortress where everyone is scrambling to collect resources, staring up at where the obsidian walls touch the cloudy sky and wondering just how the hell he’s going to get them out of this one—because they’re just not ready.

  


-

  


They’re losing.

Techno has been steadily taking all of them out with blazing sweeps, protected by his wolves as withers are continuously spawn and Dream rains explosive fire from above. And they’re losing.

Tubbo is running and he’s been running long before Dream declared Doomsday, and he’s getting tired to be quite frank. At the start, when it was just him, Tommy, and the bench, the end was so clear: independence. 

But now, as he dodges TNT and blocks dog bites with his shield, he just can’t see what he’s running towards anymore. All he does now is run away.

And deep down, Tubbo resents Tommy for still having that glint in his eye. Tommy still knows what he’s running for, which makes Tubbo realize that Tommy isn’t running with him anymore, literally and figuratively. Seriously, _where the hell is he?_ Tubbo thinks.

Leaping in front of Ponk to block Techno’s swinging axe, Tubbo pushes forward in anger. For a moment, Techno falters, surprised by the rage in Tubbo’s movement. Even Ponk is thrown to the side a little bit with the boy’s force. Tommy is the one who always puts them in these predicaments, so forgive Tubbo for being a little bit pissed that he’s nowhere to be found right now.

In a sudden instant, Tubbo is knocked out of his irritation—the air falls deadly still. The dull ebb of lingering TNT explodes far below them as an otherwise deafening silence spreads throughout the land. It takes a moment for Tubbo to recognize that there are no longer explosives raining down from the sky. 

As bows are lowered and swords are drawn, the fighters for L’Manburg tentatively slow to a stop, regarding one another with confused and hopeful eyes; silently confirming to each other that the destruction has finally come to an end. 

Tubbo looks around, trying to meet blue eyes—to understand what’s happening, because this is Tommy, right?

All annoyance toward Tommy slips away like water down a drain. Tubbo frantically scans the crown of fighters. Tommy must have done something, he _knows_ it. Tommy always has a plan.

“Tommy!” Tubbo yells, hands cupped over his mouth. The others look around at his call, expecting the other young boy to answer.

_“Come on,” Tubbo nudges Tommy’s leg with his foot, arms full of oak logs “We still need loads more weapons. Quit being a lazy boy and help.” Tubbo grins down at the other boy, transferring logs between arms and offering a hand._

_Tommy brings a hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sun as he looks up at his Tubbo from his laying down position “There’s no use.”_

_“What do you mean? C’mon, we don’t have much time, Tommy.” Tommy leaves his hand hanging, so Tubbo shifts his weight in slight disappointment, rearranging the logs in his arms. “You heard Dream, right? Three o’clock is when we have to be ready.”_

_Tommy sighs, dropping his hand back to his side and continues looking at the sky. “We won’t be ready.”_

Tubbo stops calling for Tommy after some time, coming to the realizing that he’s not coming. There was no plan. 

If it wasn’t Tommy, Tubbo thinks quickly, maybe Dream had a sliver of mercy in his heart so as not to sink the nation to bedrock. Maybe this could all be rebuilt. Maybe there was still a shot at peaceful independence. 

Maybe Tubbo could finally run with his best friend again.

There was just one small problem. One tiny issue made manifest among the sea of death broadcasts that filled everyone’s peripheral chat:

**GeorgeNotFound was slain by TommyInnit**

At that moment, the only sound that could be heard was rainfall. If it were not for the visible scene, one would never be able to tell that a war was at large due to the utter silence that fell upon the ruined country.

Tubbo exhales, shoulders and weapon dropping, whispering to himself, “Are you kidding me?”

All at once, the silence breaks and murmurs of disbelief cascade throughout the remnants of the nation-turned-battleground.

“Well then. If we weren’t completely fucked before, we sure as hell are now,” Fundy mutters, craning his neck to look up at Dream in the obsidian beams—emanating a very threatening aura of stillness. 

“Maybe it was an accident?” Niki offers meekly as five people turn towards her, armor clinking, eyebrows raised so as to say _Do we know the same Tommy?_

A loud scoff causes everyone to turn towards Technoblade, sheathing his sword. “As much as I would love to stay and watch Dream absolutely decimate this entire area,” he says, launching an ender pearl with an amused grin, “I would much rather prefer watching whatever self-destructive plan this kid’s got going on from afar.”

With the on-ground attacker gone and Philza trying to contain his laughter, repeating “Oh, you guys are so screwed” with an enunciation on a different word each time, the air erupts in voices of frenzied concern.

Questions are aimed at Tubbo like the arrows that were flying through the sky a few minutes ago. They’re asking where Tommy is and why they ever trusted him again. 

And before Tubbo can give try to give any answers—before he attempts to expain that Tommy isn’t there because he had his own plan; that he’s off running on his own towards a goal that Tubbo has lost sight of a while ago—a message appears for everyone:

**< GeorgeNotFound>: Dream. I need help.**

  


-

  


If he were anyone else, Punz might be scared shitless right now.

All Dream is doing is mining cobblestone, but the way his pickaxe hits the exact same spot every time and the sheer intensity of his swings hitting the cobble as if he had a vendetta against it so personal that it couldn’t be in one piece for one second longer left Punz just a little bit nervous. 

If he were anyone else, Punz would’ve been long gone by now. But he isn’t anyone else, he’s fought for Dream since he first stumbled into his land so he’ll be damned if the way Dream is acting right now would shatter his loyalty. And he _is_ loyal despite everyone thinking he fights for anyone who will pay him, because what the fuck is up with that? Where does everyone just get off assuming that he—

The clangs of axe hitting stone coming to an abrupt stop causes Punz to snap his head toward Dream. 

The masked man slowly turns from the cave wall, axe in a tight grip, the leather of Dream’s gloved hands stretched across his knuckles. Maybe loyalty is overhyped, Punz thinks.

Just as Punz is contemplating the quickest way out of the cave, Dream speaks for the first time since he led Punz down after they got away from the wreckage. “Do you know where he is?”

His voice is so quiet that Punz has to lean forward, forgetting that this guy currently has the motive to tear apart everyone in his path right now. Apparently, also forgetting _why_ , he asks, “W-who?”

“Who the fuck do you think?” Dream says, voice, although a lot louder and rougher, contradicting his bodily state as he slumps down to the floor, pickaxe thrown to the side. His head is tilted to the side in what looks like exhaustion, arm hanging over his bent knee.

“Um,” Punz starts, a bit thrown at the sudden change in demeaner, “I overheard Bad tell the others that Sam put him in Pandora’s Vault after Tommy killed him.”

Dream winces at the last three words and Punz gulps, having to keep his jaw from dropping to the cave floor. 

Never in his days on this land of constant power conflicts and warfare has he thought he’d see the man who came out of every single battle confident and strong look this genuinely defeated.

Almost as if he read his thoughts, Dream hurriedly pulls his mask over his face, but Punz can still see the slight tremor in his hand.

“Why would Sam do that?” Dream demands, standing back up and forcing his voice not to shake in anger or fear—Punz isn’t sure which one anymore. “George didn’t _do_ anything.”

“Apparently, Tommy told Sam that George was planning to go to the end and planted a book in George’s loot detailing how he was going to do it for Sam to find when Tommy killed him,” Punz explains. 

When several beats pass without Dream saying anything, Punz asks, “What are you going to do?”

  


-

  


“I don’t know what to tell you, Dream,” Tommy shrugs, watching the masked man in the doorway of Techno’s house. He’d shown up pretty dramatically, swinging the door open and shit, like for god’s sake man, Techno is already on Tommy’s case, he really doesn’t need a property damage bounty on his head right now.

As Dream glowers in the doorway, Tommy continues, “You see, the plan was simple. You take what I love, so I reckon you get a taste of your own medicine, big man.”

“The community house is the oldest building on these lands, Tommy,” Dream spits, pointing a netherite sword at the younger boy, “You had no right.”

Tommy holds his hands up, chuckling nervously, “Woah, woah, I swear I didn’t touch your little community house, so I suggest you frame someone else, because I’m talking about your precious George.” Which is probably not the best thing in the world he could’ve said, Tommy thinks, because not only does he not have any armor on, but Dream is being very quiet and the last time he was like this, he built sky high obsidian walls around a fucking country. 

And it’s like Tommy has a death wish, because he keeps going, “Your king has one life left.” 

Dream scoffs, looking away. He puts his sword back in his hilt and Tommy is both relieved and confused. “What makes you think I care? I just want your discs, Tommy.” He looks back, tilting his head in a kind of amusement that reignites Tommy’s annoyance for the bastard. “And George isn’t king.”

Tommy regards him for a moment. The thing that he quite can’t shake is that he knows Dream isn’t completely lying. Albeit for different reasons, the discs mean just as much to Tommy as they do to Dream, but this isn’t the plan. He’s supposed to have the upper hand here. Tommy sighs and rolls his eyes. “Then, why on earth are you here, Dream?”

“Well,” Dream strolls around Techno’s house, tapping his fingers on barrels, “I care about justice, Tommy, and you know George shouldn’t be in that prison.”

At that, Tommy lets out an incredulous laugh. “Justice? _Real_ rich coming from you, buddy.” Tommy throws his hands in the air, exclaiming, “You just blew up L’Manburg for no reason, and frankly, I’m not quite sure I see the justice in that!”

Dream ignores him. “I want you to tell Sam that you planted false evidence on George.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Dream,” Tommy says. And maybe Tommy is going to die right here, in Techno’s weird snow cottage, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go out trying for the last time. “You see, I want freedom for my friends, and if I can’t have that, then I’m just not sure we’re going to see eye to eye here.”

Dream chest rises and falls with Tommy’s hopes. He knows Dream has a place in his heart for someone other than himself, he’s _sure_ of it or he wouldn’t have left his friends to fend for themselves. He’s _seen_ the way Dream treats George.

“Fine,” Dream says. Tommy looks at the man, eyebrows raised. Has he done it? 

“I’ll get him myself.”

Dream turns to open the door, looking back at Tommy, whose mouth hangs open. “And when I come back, you better hope I don’t find you, because you’ll be taking his place.”

  


-

  


“So, what do we do know?”

George picks at the grass, glancing sideways at Dream, who sits next to him, gazing at the sun dipping below the birch forest in front of them.

Dream hasn’t said a word since he miraculously got the two of them out of that ninth circle of hell prison. 

“Dream? You know they're looking for us, right?”

When Dream doesn't move or turn to look at him, George sighs and studies him.

 _He must be tired_ , George thinks. Dream continuously mined obsidian for days on end just to get him. George knew he would too—he waited instead of trying to escape himself because his entire being knew that Dream was going to find him.

The wind blows hard as George reaches over and lifts his hand up to Dream’s mask. Taking a deep breath and holding it, George removes the mask and exhales when it reveals a tear-streaked face and scared green eyes.

Dream shakily sighs, but it’s more like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding for a long time. _It’s still raining_ , he briefly notices. It’s been days since the Doomsday war, and it’s been raining ever since. Ever since they took George away; since they reduced him to one chance left on these lands and severed something deep inside of Dream. But George is here, and the rain hasn’t stopped.

“Dream, please say something.” George begs. He’s slowly losing it the more Dream silently cries, rain barely camouflaging the tears and sounds he makes. 

A glint catches George’s eye as he looks down and notices the netherite sword gripped tightly by the man beside him. An aching heaviness tugs at George’s heart.

“Dream, you can do it,” George says quietly, “I get it. I don’t want to be a pawn that gets dangled in front of your nose any more than you do.” 

Dream looks up, eyebrows furrowed “What are you saying?”

George lets out a short laugh and it makes Dream’s heart clench—just not in the way it used to because there’s no joy in it—instead, it’s tinged with a sad bitterness. 

“You came to get me because you had to make sure that I’m no longer something they can hold over you.”

And Dream can’t speak. His lips form the word ‘no,’ but nothing comes out because they both know that George’s life is Dream’s tether to his own heart. He grounds him. Dream is made of equal parts good and bad—he loves power, glory, community, retribution, getting his way, and he loves George. 

And he can’t say a word because his love for George overwhelms him sometimes; so much so that he sometimes forgets that there’s other things he has a place for in his heart.

Dream holds so much of George in him that he pushes everything else out, and it kills him. He grips the sword tighter, leather gloves stretching even more.

George holds the man’s face in his palm, gazing at him in wonder and fear.

George is scared that Dream won’t know how to survive in a world where he can’t find the piece of him that prevents him from self-destructing and taking everyone and everything down with him. 

But more than that, George is scared that Dream will never be at peace with himself.

_“You think you’ve got all the power. You really think that don’t you Dream?_

_Tommy rubs the back of his hand across his face, blood streaking his skin. “You think that you can just tell us all what to do…that you can just control us,” Tommy gestures around, “Everything here—the people, the animals, the buildings—you just can’t stand it when you don’t have your way with them.”_

_Dream has his eyes fixated on the floorboard below him._

_“Well, let me tell you something, Dream,” Tommy says._

_Sheathing his sword, Dream looks at him. Tommy is sitting upright and looking at him with steadfast eyes, “there’s someone more powerful than you and you know it.”_

_Dream looks down again and on the dark plank of oak wood, he notices a crack._

“Among the things I shouldn’t love,” Dream whispers, tracing a finger along a tear the runs down the side of George’s mouth. George’s didn’t notice that he’d been crying too. 

His touch has George wishing he could just shatter and free Dream of whatever restraints he has on himself. 

“This land and the power I have over it,” Dream continues softly, rain glistening on his eyelashes, running down the light freckles on his face and connecting the dots that George fights the urge to reach over and touch; wishing he could connect them himself. 

With a choked exhale, George rests his forehead on Dream’s, giving up. 

The broken inflection of Dream’s voice makes George realize that he’ll never be able to reconcile the desires going to war in Dream’s head. He pulls Dream in his arms and holds him tight.

“Over and against it all, I love you the most, George.”

“I know.” George hands shake as he tries to pull him impossibly closer.

“I can’t—” _kill you. Live with you. Choose._ Dream can’t bring himself to say any of them.

“I know.” With a shaky breath, George leans away and holds Dream’s face. They lock eyes, and Dream knows he understands. 

George kisses him and Dream can taste the saltiness of their tears. He prays that time would look down upon them and show mercy by allowing them to live in this moment forever.

Because in that moment, in George’s arms, Dream can feel the promise that he loves him too.

  


-

  


Sapnap is the one who finds them. 

The guards for Pandora’s Vault were woken up from the middle of their sleep and sent in all directions to find the escaped prisoners. Sapnap was directed to scour the north-east and to kill on sight in order to teleport Dream and George back into the confines of the walls that were meant to hold them. 

From the beginning, Sapnap knew they couldn’t—he knew from the looks they shared, and the way Dream always kept George within reach, that all the layers of obsidian and all the hours of mining fatigue in the world wouldn’t be enough to keep them apart.

_“Why did you make him king just to take it all away?” Sapnap yelled, crossbow trained on Dream. George stood behind the guard, fists balled and head hanging._

_“Oh, come on, he doesn’t really care about ruling,” Dream scoffed, “He’s just sad cause he’s George and he can’t go a week without pouting about something that doesn’t matter.”_

_Sapnap scowls and Dream waves them off, turning his back, clearly done with the conversation._

_“Just say you hate me,” George mutters, toeing the ground._

_Dream continues to walk away, but Sapnap doesn’t miss his body stiffen for a split second._

_Sapnap also doesn’t miss the way George discreetly traces words on Dream’s armor as they stand in front of a newly built mushroom cottage that seemed to have appeared overnight (and Sapnap isn’t dumb, he knows the way ‘love’ looks when being air traced, not that he or Karl would know anything about that)._

_He doesn’t miss the corner of Dream’s mouth lift from the side of his mask as he takes George’s hand and traces the same words in his palm._

_Sapnap might be oblivious to most things that occur on these lands. He can’t, for the love of all that is holy, figure out what’s so good about those damn discs or why everyone is so obsessed with proving themselves. But he would be a fool if he ever missed the way Dream forgets who he is—who these people know him as—when it comes to George. There’s a part of him that lives only when George is around and so long as he is, Dream is whole._

_Sapnap doesn’t miss that._

When Tubbo thought Tommy was gone for good, Sapnap will never forget the cry he heard. He had been out in Exile Island looking for Tubbo when he heard the most gut-wrenching sound he’d ever heard in his life. The sound haunted him and kept him awake at night, praying he would never have to hear one like it again. 

Sapnap is the one who finds Dream and George because the sound he hears up ahead makes his blood run cold. 

He’s frozen in place as tears spill from his eyes. The amount of audible pain and heartbreak is so tangible that it nearly knocks Sapnap to the ground. Trying to keep his legs from giving away, Sapnap walks toward the sound as the rain does nothing to stop the earth-shattering cry from ringing in his ears.

He sees two figures intertwined on the ground, and he desperately wants to turn around and run.

When he brings an arm up to wipe his eyes with his sleeve and confirm what he knows to be true, the words in his peripheral are unblurred:

**Dream was slain by GeorgeNotFound**

George looks up at him and Sapnap figures it out. The reason why not a single soul in all of the lands that the light touched knew how many lives Dream had. Not a single soul except one—the one whose lives his were linked with.

George gently places Dream on the ground, planting a chaste kiss to his forehead. Sapnap watches as George’s tears fall on Dream’s face—watches him trace something on his cheeks before placing his mask on and standing.

“He’s free.” George turns to face him, smiling with empty eyes before choking out, “He doesn’t have to choose anymore,” and collapses into Sapnap as another message arrives:

**GeorgeNotFound died**

As he holds George in his arms, heart in an unfixable state, Sapnap sees the other guards running towards them and realizes that it’s finally stopped raining.

  


-

  


**Author's Note:**

> ok so this is the first story ive ever written partly for self-indulgent reasons bc abraxas!dream brain rot but mainly bc im presenting on fanction in my history of books class and i wanted to actually write one to rly go big or go home (say hi to my class in the comments!)
> 
> im very fascinated by all the characters on the smp and their relationships so apologies for it not being that dnf-y lol (i hope to write some non-lore dnf heavy fics in the future tho!) 
> 
> thank u so much for reading and all feedback is welcome and encouraged! id really like to know what people think :]


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